


5. Gunpoint

by titC



Series: Whumptober 2019 [5]
Category: Daredevil (Comics), Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M, whumptober2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-10-17 05:17:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20615612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/titC/pseuds/titC
Summary: Foggy’s never been particularly strong, or brave, or anything like that.





	5. Gunpoint

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [Whumptober](https://whumptober2019.tumblr.com/) for organizing it and [PixelByPixel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PixelByPixel) for the beta!

So, look, here it is. Foggy’s never been particularly strong, or brave, or anything like that. He’s always hated exercise for exercise’s sake, and he’s always loved the good things in life: food, and sex, and friends, and occasionally putting an asshole behind bars too. Foggy’s a simple guy. He’s not a super athletic vigilante with a tragic past and a collection of chips on his shoulder; he doesn’t have more issues than the New York Bulletin and more scars than regular skin. Not that he’s thinking of anyone in particular but there’s a type, right? Especially here in New York. Must be something in the air.

So no, Foggy’s not a hero. But that doesn’t mean he’s weak or stupid; he just knows how to choose his battles, contrary to some people who are going to get an earful later tonight. Foggy’s ready to fight the good fight, yes, but on _his_ terms. Preferably with the law behind him. He’s not the kind to go all Jet Li on a purse-snatcher, you know? But he will bring the might of the law on them if he can. And that’s the thing, too: sometimes you can’t. He knows this. Foggy’s lived all his life in the Kitchen; he’s well aware you can’t help everyone, you can’t right all wrongs. He gets it, that urge some people have; he really does.

He just wishes said people had better impulse control.

Seriously, what can anyone armed with cargo pants and some (bloody) rope hope to achieve against firearms? Sure, this particular anyone has got some tiny-ass sticks and combat boots; but that won’t make much of a difference against guns. Sure, certain people have plenty of experience dealing with armed thugs. Foggy is well aware of that. Except this time Foggy’s here, too, and he’s no Chuck Norris. When someone holds a gun in his face, he doesn’t turn on the fu do jitsu; he just starts sweating like a normal person.

And _someone_ heard the wannabe muggers threaten him, thought it was clever to drop down from nowhere right in front of Foggy, and here they are. Because it was a fucking trap that Mr. Bat Ears fell into, of course. Why take a couple seconds to assess a situation when you can be a dumbass and jump right in?

Foggy doesn’t want to be charmed, of course, but really he knows why. Since he finally planted one on the Clueless Idiot right here, the protective – almost territorial – behavior has ramped up to unexpected heights, or at least has become way more obvious. More touching, blind glaring at anyone he didn’t like coming too close, fussing over Foggy’s everything from the not 100% organic content of his fridge to that mole that hasn’t changed in 30 years but that he didn’t know about before getting free access to Foggy’s body.

It is, truth be told, a bit overwhelming at times. But it’s comforting, too. Foggy feels loved and cared for, and he likes loving and caring, too.

He would just like it better if it didn’t mean Mr. Summa Cum Laude suddenly forgetting he has brains and should use them instead of doing his best to get them blown out of his pretty skull. Because right now, after he landed right between Foggy and the muggers, more guns were produced and a few more people got out of the building behind them. They are armed, too, of course.

They’re surrounded, and even if his favorite vigilante is used to this, Foggy isn’t. He usually learns about this shit the next day, when they’re having their morning coffee together and yeah, okay, maybe there’s a new bruise or two that he doesn’t like seeing but the adrenaline junkie boyfriend is mostly safe and whole right here in front of him. And all these times, there are no Foggies to protect. Now, he knows what’s going to happen: when he’s cornered, the Devil will prioritize something – someone – and it’s never himself.

And that, Foggy decides, is not acceptable. Their attackers want them to stop doing their jobs, to stop going after bad guys. They want Daredevil to die, and for Nelson and Murdock to stop working with him to bring their bosses down.

Not happening.

Foggy isn’t particularly brave, or strong, or anything like that. But he’s got smarts and he’s got friends, and so he telegraphs his moves, says loudly, “I’ll give you my wallet, no big deal, let’s just not fight, yeah?”

“We don’t want your wallet,” the guy closest to him says. He’s confused; he’s wondering how that lawyer can be so stupid that he doesn’t understand what’s happening. He doesn’t stop him, and neither does his self-appointed bodyguard.

Foggy pushes the button on his keyring and hopes someone is close enough. Of all the people he’s helped, from New York’s finest to its reformed criminals, from its – for want of a better word, though many would reject it – heroes to those whose jobs, whose homes he’s saved… someone will come. Someone will get help.

Foggy Nelson isn’t a warrior; he’s not a loner convinced that he should go it alone. He’s a lawyer, and a friend, and a lover. He uses what he’s got, and sometimes that’s more than enough.


End file.
